In a police lineup, Rhonda could identify any of her ex-lovers by the taillights of their cars, the sizes, shapes, and colors branded into her mind. It was the same effect she got when, determined to prove you could stare at the sun, she looked too long, and each blink flashed bright red orbs on the backs of her eyelids.

That summer was Jack, who worked at Blockbuster. His inclusion of The Little Mermaid on his shelf of favorite movies charmed her. Most of the other male employees had the typical fare—GoodFellas, The Godfather, Reservoir Dogs.

As he scanned her movies, she asked, “Do you really like The Little Mermaid, or is one of your coworkers playing a trick on you?”

“Nope—I put it there,” he grinned. “It reminds me of my little sister, because we always watched it together. She’d act out the female parts, and I’d play the male characters.”

After chatting for a few more minutes, Jack asked if she wanted to go out sometime. How could she resist?

Jack took Rhonda to a dock on someone else’s property. Her eyes scanned the water of the lake, moonbeam-rippled and dotted with pale blue and neon orange by the lights from summer cottages. She glanced up just in time to spot a flash of heat lightning fork across the dark violet, murky sky. It was chilly, and they were wrapped up in a blanket he “just happened” to have handy. Somehow, they delved into the ever-interesting topic of fellatio.

“Will you do it? Right now?” he asked.

Rhonda shrugged under the blanket. “Sure—why not?”

When he dropped her off, Rhonda watched the crosshatched, red taillights of his Pontiac Grand Prix from her front porch, until they disappeared around the corner of the next street.

A few months later, as fall turned to winter, she met Jesse. He worked at The Electronics Boutique in the mall. She’d gone in to find a Christmas present for her older brother. Rhonda didn’t know anything about video games, and Jesse spent so much time answering her questions that the personal attention flattered her. Even though he pursed his lips like Kermit the Frog when he spoke.

He asked if she’d like to go over to his place to watch a movie sometime. She said she would, and gave him directions to pick her up that Friday night.

Jesse lived with his mother, so they tried not to disturb her as they went upstairs to his bedroom. They watched So I Married an Axe Murderer, and he tickled her as the end credits rolled, saying that he’d loved the sound of her laughter during the funny parts. Normally she hated to be tickled, but coupled with such a nice compliment, she let it slide.

The tickling became wrestling, the wrestling something more. Later, he told her she’d better get dressed so he could take her home. His mom didn’t like women staying overnight at his house.

As he drove away in his decrepit Ford Taurus, she noticed the bold, solid red of his rectangular taillights. And the right one was out.

The next spring, James hit on Rhonda in a bar. He sidled up next to her and said, “Come here often?”

“You’re joking, right?” She turned her back to him.

“Hey, sorry—it’s just that I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you in here, and I just said the first stupid thing that came into my head.” He smiled. “Forgive me?” She twisted her barstool around and faced him again. “Here, let me start over: I’m James.” He extended his hand—nails clean, uniform length, and buffed to a dull sheen—toward her. When she took it, he lifted her hand to his mouth. He definitely used lip balm; his lips were soft and supple, yet firm.

The next weekend James took her out to dinner. Afterward they sat on the leather sofa in his spacious loft, and he offered to give her a shoulder massage. His hands kneaded the tension from her shoulders, and she didn’t stop him when he kissed her neck.

A few hours later, he said he would take Rhonda home. He had a mandatory meeting at work early in the morning and needed to get his “beauty rest.” So she watched as the oblong taillights with neapolitan stripes of red, orange, and white on his BMW convertible sped off into the distance.

Two weeks after her date with James, Rhonda’s best friend, Shelly, invited her to a birthday party. “There’ll be lots of single guys there,” Shelly said.

Rhonda groaned. “In case you didn’t notice, I haven’t been having much luck in that area lately.” The cavalcade of taillights flashed in her mind. “I think I’d better just stay home.”

But after Shelly reminded her of how many favors she owed, Rhonda said she’d go.

The night of the party, Rhonda didn’t even bother to put on makeup. She threw on a pair of comfy drawstring yoga pants and favorite t-shirt, and twisted her hair into a makeshift bun at the base of her neck.

At the party, she sat alone in the corner. She knew Shelly would later accuse her of being antisocial, but she didn’t care. It served her right for forcing Rhonda into a situation. As she stared at the clock, someone sat on the loveseat next to her.

“Don’t you hate these forced social gatherings?” he said, as he took a long gulp from his Heineken. Rhonda looked at him askance, unsure.

“Yes,” she said. He laughed.

“Well—that was a firm response.”

“Yeah, I didn’t even want to come tonight, but Shelly guilted me into it.”

“She does have a way with that, doesn’t she?” he said.

“She could host a seminar about it,” Rhonda sighed and took a sip of her whiskey sour.

“My name’s Geoff, by the way.” He didn’t offer his hand, but continued leaning in the opposite corner of the loveseat.

“I’m Rhonda.”

They sat for a few more minutes in silence. Abruptly, he asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes,” she said, standing and setting her drink on the coffee table in front of them. He swallowed the last of his beer, sat the bottle on an end table, and they headed for the door.

As he put his hand on the knob, Shelly shoved herself between them and the door, hands on hips. “Hey—where do you think you’re sneaking off to?”

“Oh, we’re just gonna’ step outside for some air—it’s stuffy in here, isn’t it Rhonda?” Rhonda nodded.

Shelly crossed her arms in front of her. Finally, she stepped aside. “All right. But come back soon so we can do the cake thing.”

“Okay, Mom,” Geoff said. Grabbing Rhonda’s arm, he gently pushed her through the door in front of him. “Don’t wait up,” he shouted over his shoulder, as they took off running down the street.

“Where are we going?” Rhonda asked when they finally stopped at the end of the block, laughing and gasping for air.

“I dunno. Any ideas?”

“Well, my place is only a few blocks from here—we can hang out there, if you want.”

“Do you have any roommates?” She shook her head. “Perfect.” He linked his arm in hers.

As they talked while sitting on Rhonda’s couch, she was surprised they had so much in common. She’d never found a red-headed guy attractive before, but Geoff’s casual charm appealed to her.

In the middle of the night, they woke up on her couch, fully clothed. She was tucked between Geoff’s long legs, with his arms wrapped around her. Her face felt hot where it lay on his chest.

“Whoa—guess we dozed off or something,” he said, sitting up and stretching as Rhonda got to her feet. He also stood, and she watched the imprint her curled up body had left on his shirt disappear.

Rhonda walked him to the door, and they stood on the porch. She toyed with the drawstring on her yoga pants.

He hugged her, lifting her up and kissing her cheek. “Thanks for such a great night, and saving me from that nightmare,” he said as he carefully set her back on the porch.

“Actually, I think it was you who did the saving,” she replied.